


CSI: The Diner

by kryptidkat



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, danger days themed insults are really fun to come up with i discovered, just some really horrible crack i wrote while procrastinating on my long serious fic oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12892785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptidkat/pseuds/kryptidkat
Summary: Party’s secret stash has gone missing and he’s determined to pin down the culprit. Shenanigans ensue and insults fly – particularly creative ones, thanks to Jet, who has somewhat successfully ingrained in the others that you Do Not Swear when the Girl is in earshot.





	CSI: The Diner

Fun Ghoul had his hands buried in the metal guts of a broken radio and the Girl was curled up in a window booth across the diner with her nose buried in a book when Party came breezing through and disappeared into the kitchen. Ghoul heard a great deal of rustling. Then banging. Then a shriek and an alarming number of crashes.

A few moments later Party reemerged, looking disheveled.

“Fun,” he said, suspiciously nonchalant, “Do you remember finding that old bunker in zone four last week?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Mm-hm.” Party stalked closer, eyes narrowing. “Then perhaps you will _also_ recall the perfectly sealed and only slightly expired box of poptarts that _I_ found and called dibs on?”

Ghoul side-eyed him. “Your point?”

“Where are they, Ghoul!”

“Where are what?”

“You heard me.”

Ghoul slammed his screwdriver down. “Accusing me of something?”

“Maybe I am.” Party leaned across the table menacingly.

Ghoul went back to tinkering. “Take your detective act somewhere else. I’m busy.”

“ _Ghoul_.”

“What? I didn’t take your stupid poptarts.”

Party snapped.

“THAT IS A BAREFACED LIE, MOTHERAAaah – ” he noticed the Girl and automatically shifted gears, barely skipping a beat. “ – ahahafUDGING MANGY DIRTBAG! STAY THE EVERLOVING FRICK-FRACKITY HECK AWAY FROM MY STASH!” He lunged at him.

Ghoul hastily dropped his project and skipped nimbly out of reach. “Nyah, who’s gonna stop me, the zone police?”

“Aha, so you did take them!”

“I admit nothing!”

They chased each around the tables. Chairs scattered. Party stubbed his toe on one of them.

“DINGLE-DARNED sonofa pANCAKE!” He hopped after Ghoul like the world’s angriest pogo stick. “YOU’RE GONNA WAKE UP ONE OF THESE DAYS WITH HOT PINK HAIR!”

Ghoul dodged behind the bar. “FRANKLY, MY DEAR, I DON’T GIVE A FLYING. FIG. NEWTON!” he shrieked back, punctuating each word with a hurled empty beer bottle.

Party ducked and glass shattered against the wall. “And I don’t give a rat’s derrierre about your fig newtons I want my poptarts, ya lyin’, stealin’, battery-lickin’– ”

Ghoul ran out of bottles and Party tried to tackle him, but Ghoul climbed onto the counter and started jumping precariously from table to table. “THERE ONCE WAS A KILLJOY NAMED PARTY–”

Party scrambled after him. “Wait til I get my hands around your scrawny neck – ”

“ – WHO ACTED SO CLEVER AND, UH, SMARTY – ”

“ – see who’s laughing then ugly muttfaced  – ”

“ – HE THOUGHT HE WAS COOL BUT IN FACT WAS A TOOL – ”

“ – finish that doggone limerick, I dare you – ”

“ - AND HIS DYE JOB WAS REALLY QUITE SHI – aah!”

Party heaved up on the edge of Ghoul's table. It flipped and Ghoul flew headfirst into the coatrack. Party snatched up an umbrella and started smacking him over the head with it. “That didn’t even rhyme! You’re useless as a – as a vacuum cleaner in a sandstorm!”

“Ow, ow!” Ghoul scrambled to his feet and went en garde with another umbrella. They dueled all around the diner, leaving chaos in their wake.

“RADIOACTIVE GEIGER COUNTER!”

“BARBIE CAR IN A DEMOLITION DERBY!”

“EARBUDS THAT ONLY WORK ON ONE SIDE!”

“FANCYPANTS DUMPSTER CLOWN!”

“MOLDY KUMQUAT!”

“FURRY!”

“That’s it!” Party threw down his umbrella. “I am killing you in the face with a rusty can opener.”

“Not if I do it first, drac-kisser!” Ghoul dived at him, sending them both down in a heap.

“ _GOSH DONUT HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID NO FIGHTING INSIDE THE DINER I SWEAR IF YOU DON’T PIPE DOWN RIGHT NOW I WILL STUFF BOTH OF YOU HOOLIGANS INTO THE GET-ALONG T-SHIRT AGAIN SO HELP ME DESTROYA!_ ”

The voice bellowed through the diner so loud the pictures on the walls rattled. They froze mid-grapple.

Jet glared at them from the doorway, panting.

Party and Ghoul sheepishly untangled themselves and slunk out in opposite directions, making horrible grimaces and throat-slitting gestures at each other.

The Girl looked up blankly from her book and took out headphones Jet hadn’t seen under her hair. “Did somebody say something?”

Jet blinked. She was completely oblivious.

“Uh…no. Nope,” he assured her. “Definitely not. Not a thing.”

The Girl shrugged and went back to reading.

Just then Kobra wandered in. “Whoa.” He stopped short when he saw wreckage. “What happened here?”

Jet sighed as he looked around for a broom. “Ghoul and your brother were at it again. I don’t even want to know.”

“Ah.” Kobra nodded philosophically. “It’s always something with them, isn’t it.” He took a bite of his poptart and wandered back out.


End file.
